Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Tuesday's Just as Bad

It's another gloomy morning here in Winterland. I need to go invest in special "happy" lights to keep the blues away, or else go to the gym every single day for the bump in endorphins. Actually, this time of day, post-breakfast, my daily cup of coffee sitting to one side, my loyal canine companion snoozing on the other, is not so bad. The afternoon is when I need some relief from the overcast skies. Mostly I just wander around like an ancient Bette Davis in some haunted Southern manse ... there's a movie where she does that, right? I can't seem to settle on one task--work on a quilt, fold the laundry, make lunches. No, I just float around as though I'm searching for something I lost years ago, but I just can't remember what it is.

***

Last week I had my colors done. As it turns out,
I'm a Summer. For the last thirty years, I've been under the impression that I
was a Winter (if you're not familiar with the Color Me Beautiful system, you
can check it out here). The Winter message says: Your coloring is crisp and distinctive. Winters are rich
and intense in hair and eye color. You receive compliments in bold shades,
black white, red and jewel tones. Summer?
A whole 'nother country: Your overall coloring is the most
delicate and understated of all the seasons. Summer is the serenity palette,
so you should always avoid harsh contrasts by keeping the entire look calm and
in complete harmony. You receive compliments in pastel shades of rose,
periwinkle, sage.

Who knew? I'm delicate and
understated. I can wear pale yellow. The stylist who did my color chart held up
a light, light brown swatch to my face, and it looked fabulous. All that black
I've been wearing for the last thirty years? Totally wrong (although it worked
for the punk rock look I was cultivating back in the day).

So now I have to completely revise not only my entire wardrobe, but my self-image as well. All my life I've thought of myself as a brightly-colored bull in a china shop, and it turns out I'm a delicate flower. Lovely.

***

I went out to lunch with an old friend last week. She's someone I used to work with before Jack was born, and we've stayed in touch over the years, but haven't actually socialized much. She was definitely my favorite coworker back in the day, but as I was driving to meet her I couldn't remember if she was someone I'd just liked an awful lot--and I did like her an awful lot--or if she was someone I loved to talk to. You'd think I'd remember something like that, but I'm old and my memory's not what it used to be.

Here's the thing: there are people in my life I think are fabulous, but I don't actually have that much to say to. There's a woman I used to go to church with whom I adore--she's bright and feisty, the sort of person who actually lives out her values instead of just yapping on about them the way I do. I admire her and like her immensely. But the few times we tried to get together socially, it just didn't work. She's brightly optimistic, I'm darkly somewhat hopeful but also pretty pessimistic. She doesn't read much; I panic if I have to wait somewhere for five minutes without a book. She's an extrovert, I'm an introvert. You get the picture.

So, driving to meet Anne, I worried that all my fond feelings for her wouldn't actually translate into good conversation. Anne's very creative, but her background is in business. She comes from money, I come from the U.S. Army (my dad was career military). Maybe we would discuss the old days at work and then lapse into silence.

Well, I'm pleased as punch to report that we had a grand time. We talked about our children of course, and we talked about work. But we also talked about quantum physics and our wasted college years and the best recipes for deviled eggs. When it came time to go, I hated to say goodbye. It was one of the best conversations I had in years. And we didn't mention the old days once.

The best thing of all? I felt like I'd made a new friend. Who happens to be an old friend. Who happens to be as obsessed with deviled eggs as I am. Life is sweet.

10 comments:

I remember getting my colors done with my mom when I was really young, but it was at a church/women's meeting and there wasn't a "professional" there, just someone with the book. My mom determined I was either a Spring or a Summer, she wasn't sure which. Wow, your post brought up some really old memories!

It's funny about people. I also know people who I think are really great and I love to sit back and observe them, but when it comes to conversation we don't really mesh. It's great that you and your co-worker had such a good time together. I find that the older I get, the harder it is to make "new" friends, because everyone is so wrapped up in their families and their lives and they aren't always open to looking outside the comfort they have created for themselves. I'll admit to being a bit like that myself.

Colour Me Beautiful was THE thing when I was an early teen in PNG. I dunno...someone must have got a hold of it and brought it over cos it was pretty hot stuff back there in the 80's beyond the realms of normal civilisation. I'm a summer. Which is why I have always balked at red and black and overly bright colours I guess.

So glad you had such a marvellous time with your old/new friend. I love it when you get to come away from an afternoon like that feeling so completely refreshed and renewed, like that time will sustain you for weeks ahead.

As for the wandering thing....I get like that when I'm bored. And I've forgotten how to entertain myself for more than 5 minutes after two years of full time study. One day I'll have to relearn. But I also suffer the malaise of grey winter skies that go on forever. Well, months at least. If you'd like some sun and warmth I have it aplenty right now. You're more than welcome to have some.

Life is sweet, but it's definitely easier to taste the sweet when the sky isn't radiating monochrome grey, or even that completely blank white. Vacant. I'm scouring window vistas for painfully cold blue. I'm so glad the conversation turned out so well. I was on the edge of my seat willing it to turn out well! I had my colours done in a former life- after the birth of a child, perhaps. My memory must be like yours- I have no idea who or what I am....

You'll look adorable in those soft summer colors. Winter colors are much too harsh for you. I put a lot of stock in wearing your best colors. I'm a winter, and if I wore orange or yellow, people would try to give me mouth-to-mouth. It's that bad.

I am ever so glad that you have discovered you are a delicate flower. This could spill into so many other areas of your life. There must be many things that delicate flowers couldn't possibly do. Cleaning the bathroom springs to mind..

Ah, thanks for the giggle. I can't remember what season it is that I am supposed to be but I have wondered if our season changes as we age. I mean, WE change, so why not our colors? My mother used to tell me that I should NEVER wear yellow or white. Used to make me so mad because I didn't like her telling me what to wear. But I never have worn those colors. It isn't because I am a good girl, either. On some level I must have believed her despite my irritation.

Good conversation is hard to come by especially for us introverts who want to talk about more than the small stuff. So I am glad you had one. Getting out like that helps with the horrors of winter, too, don't you think?

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How cool is that!? What fun to have a new friend who really isn't new. Does that make sense? I am an introvert too and always panic before any social gathering. I always think I need to take up drinking just so I can be calm during the social gathering.

Based on the colour thing, I am a spring. I too always thought I was a winter. Hmmm, this warrants some further investigation.

About Me

I'm a writer and a stay-at-home mom who keeps meaning to mop the floors because I think it would make me happy if I did. I love books and music and writing, spend entirely too much time in the dentist's chair (I bet I have more crowns than you do), and used to think I was sort of bohemian, but now I wonder. No tattoos. Minivan. That story.